Waiting on a Promise
by Sefilin
Summary: Relena waits for someone to arrive in time for Christmas.


======================================================================  
  
Waiting on a Promise  
A Gundam Wing Christmas Fic  
By Sefilin  
  
======================================================================  
  
Disclaimers: Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing copyright Sunrise, Bandai,   
Sotsu Agency  
  
==========  
  
Relena glanced out at the snow, spreading deep and soft for as   
far as she could see. It lay heavily on the dark branches of the   
evergreens that surrounded the small cabin and sparked golden under the   
fading light of the sun and indigo in the shadows beneath the trees.   
Before her spread a panorama of majestic mountains, tips painted purple   
and pink, touched with the same gold that lay at her feet. A small   
town was nestled in the valley below, lights already glittering in good   
cheer. Above her the sky, mirroring the colour of the shadows beneath   
the branches, was darkening, allowing the tiny silver pinpricks of   
stars to appear. The moon, round and fat, seemed to be enjoying the   
last few moments of its rest before beginning its night shift.   
Altogether, it was a perfect evening for staring at the scenery from   
the cosy cabin set snugly on the mountain.  
  
She sighed and wrapped her arms more tightly about herself,   
trying to keep warm as she stood on the porch, seeing less of the view   
than she would have liked because her eyes were pinned on the break in   
the trees that was the end of the long driveway. She didn't know how   
long, exactly, she'd been standing there, but the sun had been much   
higher in the sky then, keeping her warm enough in the fine cashmere   
sweater and open coat she was wearing.  
  
Saddened, she took a step backwards and folded herself onto the   
floor of the porch under the window, slipping her arms around her knees   
instead, and resting her chin on them. Still her gaze remained on the   
tree break.  
  
She was waiting, had been all day and even before that she'd been   
waiting, although there had been no expectation of an arrival until   
that morning. She'd been hoping that maybe he'd surprise her, and   
arrive the evening before while she'd been sitting in front of the fire   
listening to some of the jazz in his rather eclectic collection and   
sipping at a glass of cider. He hadn't come, and though she'd been a   
little disappointed, she hadn't really expected him then; his work kept   
him busy.  
  
Today, though, had been the beginning of his holidays and he was   
supposed to leave first thing in the morning in order to get here by   
lunch, but he hadn't arrived yet and it was getting dark. Already the   
golden glow had faded and the silver of moonlight was beginning to   
emerge instead. She'd called the apartment to make sure he'd left and   
yes, she had been told he'd left as planned early that morning, he was   
just going to stop by the office to drop something off before   
continuing on. So she called the office, talked for long minutes to   
some of her best friends who had told him that, yes, he'd left and   
Merry Christmas.  
  
She'd stared at the phone for a long time after that, hoping that   
it would, indeed, be a Merry Christmas, but knowing it was dependant on   
him. He had to be here, especially since it was their first Christmas   
together as man and wife. They were going to start a tradition, he'd   
claimed; no matter how busy they were in future, no matter how far one   
or the other of them would have to travel, at least they'd spend   
Christmas together. It was going to be a special family time,   
especially when they had children. He'd grinned then as she blushed at   
the thought and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless -   
something he could do effortlessly.  
  
Brushing her bangs off her forehead, and smiling at the memory,   
she turned her face to the sky, staring at the moon in the satin sky.   
She loved that she now had those memories and that this marriage   
promised that her collection would grow.  
  
She hadn't known, when they'd first met, how utterly romantic her   
husband could be and it had taken her by surprise to receive the tiny   
suncrystal the day after their first date. Now it hung in the window   
of her office, casting rainbows to dancing on days when the sun was but   
a glimmer in the sky, and cheering her up almost as though he was there   
himself. And he'd promised to give her rainbows on that first date,   
promised her that no matter what sadness occurred, there would always   
be a rainbow to follow and make things better. She hadn't expected him   
to deliver so soon, but those rainbows had helped on many an occasion   
when work got to be too much.  
  
The best thing, she mused, about his romantic bent, was that it   
was unpredictable. Not for him the usual expression of flowers, though   
that didn't mean she didn't get flowers on occasion, but it was just as   
likely for him to arrive at her office with a picnic and drag her to   
the park. Or the gifts, a small sandalwood candle or a scribbled note   
telling her, in one way or another, that she was cherished.   
  
It made her feel guilty, sometimes, that she could never   
reciprocate with as much creativity and she'd mentioned that once, when   
he'd taken her to the ballet for their first anniversary as a couple,   
then given her a tiny painting of a ballerina in a gilt frame that now   
stood on her dressing table at home. He'd looked surprised, then   
laughed, staring at her with such tenderness that she lost her ability   
to think for a moment. He'd told her that the greatest gift she could   
give him was to smile, to let him know that she enjoyed what he did for   
her. That the only thing he ever wanted was to be loved, and she gave   
him that unconditionally; how could he possibly give her enough to make   
up for that? She'd smiled through tears and caught his face in her   
hands, placing butterfly kisses on his eyelids, the tip of his nose,   
then lingeringly on his mouth.  
  
It was the first time she had told him, in words, that she loved   
him. The smile she'd gotten for that effort had been enough to   
convince her that for him, that was the most precious gift she could   
give. So she gave it, telling him with word, gesture and touch that   
she adored him.  
  
That sense of wonder, that she loved him, had never waned in the   
year they'd dated and the year they'd been married and Relena was still   
awed by the fact that she could have such an effect on him.   
  
She'd known him, before that, as strong, perhaps a little   
insensitive and, because he never let anyone know how he really felt   
about things, a bit shallow. His previous girlfriend, whom everyone   
had thought was perfect for him because of the similarity in their   
personalities hadn't been able to get past the barriers he had in   
place. She'd said that he hadn't trusted her enough to give her more   
than friendship, that there had never been true intimacy, even in bed.   
Then she'd said that she was glad he'd found her, and, with a smile   
full of nostalgia, that Relena could give him what he needed to open   
up.  
  
And she had to admit that he had. She'd learnt more about him in   
the year before he proposed than she'd ever dreamed was held within his   
slender body and quicksilver mind. He'd cried in her arms for friends   
long gone and spent long hours telling her of his life, and she loved   
him all the more for giving her that much of himself.  
  
Not that they're weren't times when he only had the mask to show   
her too; those times when he was too tired, feeling too vulnerable to   
tell even her. Then there were the times when the mask became more   
than a mask and then she was introduced to fun, on a scale she'd never,   
ever known before - carnivals, clubs, parties, walking in the   
mountains, dinner and dancing, playing in the park and driving fast   
along country roads.  
  
And each of his facets - the romantic, the child, the too   
sensitive man, the clown - had at one time or another left her   
completely breathless. She'd never had that happen before, even with   
the childhood sweetheart she had thought was her one true love. Theirs   
had been a quiet, comfortable relationship, but without the excitement   
that gave this one the life it had.  
  
She wished he was here, that she didn't have to sit here waiting   
for him and worrying about if he was safe. He'd promised, though, and   
he'd never broken a promise, so she would stay here, waiting and   
remembering, until he arrived and they could put the tree up in time   
for Christmas tomorrow and spend the night wrapped in each others arms.  
  
==========  
  
Drawing the car to a halt, Duo sighed deeply, hoping she wasn't   
too worried or upset at the lateness of his arrival, which hadn't   
entirely been his fault. After all, how was he to know that the   
vehicle would somehow acquire a flat tyre in the middle of nowhere,   
with the spare still to be replaced after a high-speed car chase the   
other week? A few hours trudging through snow that had become sludge,   
had brought him, exhausted, to a small town whose mechanic had driven   
him back out and helped him change the tyre. Feeling obliged to thank   
him for the beyond-the-call-of-duty actions, he'd bought a drink for   
the mechanic that had dragged out into two, as the locals, not used to   
strangers pausing there on their journeys, had been eager to talk.  
  
Finally he'd managed to extricate himself from their well-meaning   
hospitality by mentioning the fact that his wife was waiting for him   
and that he rather thought he was running late. That had had the   
unfortunate effect of making the townsfolk feel guilty for having kept   
him so long and they'd given him a basket of Christmas mince pies and   
sent him on his way. He'd left, watching them becoming smaller in the   
rear-view mirror and wishing he'd been able to stay in the friendly   
warmth a little longer. Weighed against his wife, though, the   
attraction had paled and he'd accelerated, thinking that maybe both of   
them could stop there for a little while on the way back to the city   
after Christmas.  
  
He'd been lucky he hadn't gone sliding off the road at the speed   
he was driving, but a sudden need to see her had gripped him and he'd   
spent the rest of the trip trying to remember the exact blue of her   
eyes and knowing that his imagination wasn't doing them justice. It   
never did.  
  
He paused for a moment beside the 4WD and glanced at the dark   
cabin, suddenly afraid of what he'd find. It wasn't like her to leave   
everything dark like this; she was a creature of the light.  
  
Stepping quickly forwards, he unholstered his gun and gripped it   
firmly, watching carefully for any sign that the situation was bad.   
There was no sound, no movement and his breath began to come faster as   
fear-induced adrenaline rushed into his veins, producing a heat that   
made him feel cold.   
  
That his wife was such an important figure in the world was not   
something he enjoyed. He was proud of her, of course, that she held   
such responsibility without letting it weigh her down too far and   
without allowing it to become power. But the danger she lived with   
because of that position was something he tried not to think about.   
There was nothing he could do to make things safer for her that others   
weren't already doing. But how he wished, at times, that she - that   
they - were just normal people living a quiet life in the suburbs.  
  
Moving to the front door, the only way in or out of the cabin,   
apart from the windows, he stepped silently onto the porch and held his   
breath listening again for any sound.   
  
Nothing.  
  
He glanced around, checking for movement once again and his eyes   
drew to a halt on the woman curled up beneath the window, painted in   
shadows with the faintest traces of silver moonlight gilding her hair.   
  
Letting out his breath on a sigh of relief, he replaced his gun   
in its holster and crouched next to her, noticing she was shivering in   
her sleep. A smile crossed his lips and stuck in place as he brushed a   
strand of hair off her forehead, watching as it flopped directly back   
into place. Then he reached for her, moving and shifting her until she   
was lying cradled in his arms.  
  
She curled into the warmth that radiated from him, a murmur   
leaving her throat and her cold nose touching the nape of his neck.   
His smile turned rueful as he shivered and turned for the door, glad it   
was unlocked.   
  
Manoeuvring her carefully though the door, he strode across to   
the couch, sitting before a fire that had faded to embers. He laid her   
down gently, tucking a rug around her and sitting back to watch her.   
  
There was such peace on her face, the visible signs of the haven   
he had found in the woman who had agreed to marry him the year before.   
He'd been rather surprised that she'd said yes straight off. Somehow   
he hadn't expected her to say yes like that, even though he knew she   
loved him and they'd discussed the possibility previously.  
  
They'd known each other for going on eight years when they'd been   
surprised to discover a mutual attraction and found themselves acting   
on it. Before that, neither of them had even considered the other as a   
potential mate, but suddenly, it had seemed the only thing that made   
any sense. By the end of the first date, Duo had known this was it   
and, without a qualm, had committed himself to her, heart and soul.  
  
The depth of that commitment had helped him begin the process of   
actually _talking_ to her and the nature of her responses had   
strengthened it. She had such compassion, such quiet understanding,   
that he felt he could tell her anything and did. She had reciprocated   
almost immediately, gifting him with the secret shadows and fireflies   
of her heart as well as the honesty of her responses and the   
completeness of her trust.  
  
Duo didn't think she quite realised how different she was when   
she was with him than when she was around others. But he had noticed   
and recognised, in that, how much he was loved. The words had been   
completely unnecessary; though her willingness to voice her sentiments   
always made his insides melt and what he was _sure_ was an incredibly   
silly grin to appear all over his face.  
  
He felt that same grin appear now at the memories rushing through   
his mind and turned to tend the fire in order to warm her and him and   
keep the cabin as the cosy shelter it should be. The addition of more   
kindling caused a flare of flame, a sudden gust of heat hitting him in   
the face as he sat by waiting with a larger log. A smile quirked his   
mouth as he thought of the extravagance of wood burning that, on Earth,   
became something taken for granted. On the colony where he was born,   
there had been no wood to burn and fire was a danger that used up too   
much oxygen and required the use of precious water to douse. He hoped   
that he'd never take such things for granted though, and, turning back   
to his wife, made himself a promise to never take her for granted   
either.  
  
Kneeling beside the couch, he smiled down at her, brushing a   
finger lightly across her cheek, enjoying the feel of familiar silken   
skin. It was still a little colder than usual, but that was changing,   
pale colour returning and the shivers dropping off as the woollen   
blanket began to do its job. His hand spread until his palm lay   
against her cheek, the tips of his fingers buried in the softness of   
her hair. Without thought, he leaned in closer until his lips were   
hovering above hers, sharing breath and life.   
  
His eyes drifted closed and his breath caught as he found himself   
lost in the closeness, a mist of tears filming his eyes. Then he   
lowered himself that last centimetre and let his lips ever so lightly   
brush hers.  
  
As the moment dragged out, she murmured, shifting against the   
couch and a hand came to rest against his chest as her lips softened   
and she drew a breath from his mouth. He pulled back and opened his   
eyes to gaze into hers, still half asleep, but alight with joy.  
  
"Duo," she breathed and he leant down to kiss her again.  
  
==========  
  
Resting against her husband's chest, curled up in the blankets on   
the bed early next morning, Relena looked out the window at the view,   
appreciating it now the way she hadn't the night before. It looked   
like Christmas was going to be another lovely day, with crystal blue   
skies above pristine snowfields, a clarity in the air that never failed   
to refresh her. In the weather lay the promise of snow fights, hikes   
through the snow and long hours spent staring out across the valley as   
the sun went down. But before that she had a gift to give to Duo.  
  
And before that, they needed to put the tree up, neither of them   
having the energy to do more than drift off to sleep holding each other   
after she'd woken to his kiss. But she didn't mind; neither tree nor   
gift was as important as Duo. He'd promised to be here and here he   
was; the greatest possible gift that she was given every day.  
  
Relena sighed softly and happily.   
  
Then the heartbeat beneath her ear jumped a little and she turned   
her head, glancing up at Duo's face and the now open blue-violet eyes.   
They stared at each other for a second then smiled, Duo's arms coming   
around her more firmly as she snuggled closer. A breath of air gusted   
over the top of her head as Duo tilted his head, giving the impression   
of curling around her.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Relena," he whispered.  
  
And it was.  
  
===Owari===  
  
http://www.geocities.com/sefilin/  
sefilin@yahoo.com  



End file.
